


What's in a Name?

by demonfire57



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Repressed Memories, black plague mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfire57/pseuds/demonfire57
Summary: Lydia has a question about who BJ was.





	What's in a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation (?) of "Say it Once, Say it Twice." I may edit this later on, just due to how short it actually is.  
> As always, Comments and Kudos are welcomed! (Also any suggestions would be nice too.)

What’s in a name?

The question came to Lydia nearly a week after a reunion between her and a poltergeist for whom she had befriend. For the few years she knew of him, _“Beetlejuice”_ was what he called himself and, according to what the Maitlands’ had told her, it was all he was known as.

Still, though, he had to have been _someone_ before his untimely demise. If she could pull a name from him, she might be able to at least find out more about him. Going off of what she did know, Lydia scrounged everywhere and everything about the black plague, as BJ claimed to have lived through it. She tried to find a list of names of victims and if any of them had surviving family members. All Lydia got was how it was started, how it spread, and the number of people it effected across the globe.

She was going through another book about life during the plague when a tapping sound startled her.

“Hey babes!” the grinning poltergeist greeted the girl.

“Hey, BJ,” Lydia smiled upon seeing the ghost. He had taken to appearing in the mirror on her vanity when he wanted to see her or ask if he could come out for a bit. During the times he was in the mirror, he would watch Lydia do her homework and help her if needed, work on her dress, or be a part of her photography shoots if he was in the mood for it.

He looked down at the book she had on her vanity where she was reading, “Ugh… the Bubonic Plague? Gives me shivers just ‘memberin’ it.”

“Barbara and Adam mentioned you lived through it.”

“Yeh, and?”

Lydia shrugged, “I was curious if I could find something about you in one of these books.”

“Unlikely,” BJ grimaced, popping a beetle in his mouth, “nearly half the population was wiped out ‘cause of it, and we didn’t keep track of things like ya do nowadays.”

Lydia nodded in understanding before she began again, “I was wondering if I could ask you something, BJ?”

“Eh? Sure, what?”

“What’s your name?”

Betelguese looked at her in confusion, “Huh? Babes, ya already know the name. Ya use it to call me if ya need somethin’.”

“I mean your real name,” Lydia tried to explain, “The one your mother gave you when you were born. It can’t be _“Beetlejuice”_ … can it?”

Betelguese drummed his fingers on the platform before answering, “Maybe it is… maybe I ain’t got one. Where’s this comin’ from, anyway?”

Lydia shrugged again, “I don’t know. I was curious. I wanted to find out more about you and that’s why I’ve been researching, looking for a list of anyone that may have known you.”

“Lyds, those people are _dead._ There ain’t no way ya could find out who I was.”

“But you had to be someone before you died.”

“What if I wasn’t?” the poltergeist asked, “What if I was always dead?”

Lydia shook her head in disbelief, “You know that can’t be true, BJ.”

“What if I don’t want to remember?” he popped another beetle in his mouth, crunching it as he continued, “It was different times then, Lyds. If yer family was infected, ya’d most likely become the next victim. If they died and ya survived, yer called a ‘witch,’ then executed.”

Lydia looked down at her hands before looking up at him, “Were you?”

“Was I what?”

“Executed for witchcraft, since you survived?”

Betelguese took a deep breath. He couldn’t be mad at Lydia, even though it was a touchy topic for him still after all these decades. He looked at her before nodding in agreement, “I… was. My wife… was one of the last victims of the plague. She an’ my two little girls perished in sickness. One of the locals found out that I was the lone survivor of the household an’ I was brought before a jury of self-righteous morons that were willing to point the blame on anyone.”

“And, you were found guilty?”

“They decided on the ol’ water test… I was tied to a boulder the size of yer vanity here and was dropped in the nearby river. Never came up, just… faded.”

Lydia rubbed her eyes as tears began to fall. Why did she ask for him to tell her? It was hard enough as it was for him, but knowing that she could see the torture in his eyes as he relived it for her?

A white moss-covered hand offered a white pristine handkerchief to her, “Now look what ya made me do. I made ya cry!”

Lydia chuckled, taking the handkerchief from the ghost before drying her eyes and blowing her nose.

“Thank you, BJ.”

He waved his hand at her, “I ain’t worth the tears, Lyds. They’re better spent on some sick guy ya pin yer heart on.”

“But I can feel sorry for you,” Lydia countered, “After all, no one should die the same way you did.”

“Like I said before,” the poltergeist explained, “different times then. They were desperate times, too. An’ ya know the old sayin’.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Betelguese snapped his fingers at her, “Exactly.”

Lydia smiled and closed her book, feeling comfortable in the knowledge that she had at least understood how Betelguese died now. But as far as his name went, perhaps that was a mystery left for later.

She grabbed her camera off the shelves nearby, “I’m heading to the cemetery, want to tag along?”

“The cemetery? What ya going do, dig up someone?”

Lydia laughed, “I need a few more photos for an art collage I’m doing for school. If you want to come, you are more than welcome to.”

“Aw, hell yeah!” the poltergeist grinned before fading. Obviously, he was going to meet her there. Lydia grinned as she headed out of her room, closing the door to her dark, dark world.


End file.
